About Besotted ...

You know, when I finished "Besotted" (and it took me almost 18 months to write), I was exhausted.  It was a tough book to write.  All who know me will know that I try to become the character I'm writing about.  In Benjamin Beerenwinkel's case, that meant losing myself in a blur of alcohol abuse (whilst at the same time retaining a sober clarity for my day job).  At the end, I went on a month-long period of sobriety.  I read "Besotted", and I liked it.  However, I've read in 9 times since, and I've cut bits out, hacked away with a red pen, and become frustrated with it.

That last time I read it, I became jaded.  I didn't like it.  I though it was boring, pretentious, self-indulgent (okay, I realize that I'm not really selling the book very well to you).  But the thing is, I was viewing it with the eye of somebody who'd read it 9 times, with the self-critical eye of the creator.  It's only when somebody totally independent reads it and passes their opinion that I know whether or not it was worth writing.

Today, there was a review on Amazon.  The only review.  And it was good.  I suspect the review was written by one of my small circle of loyal fans, but even those loyal fans have criticized my work in the past.  Comments such as, "It was okay, but definitely not your best", "You can tell it was rushed", "poor characters", these have all been leveled at me by fans.

But I learn from that criticism.

"Besotted" is not an action book.  It's not a thriller (though it does have its moments of excitement).  It's a character piece.  I want the reader to like Benjamin Beerenwinkel, to accept his flaws, to listen to his story the way you'd listen to a friend telling you something quite unbelievable.

But as Chuck Palahniuk said (and to paraphrase him, because I can't quite remember how he worded it), once you've finished a book and you've put it out there, you forget about it and move onto the next one.  Even if nobody else likes it, at least I know that one person enjoyed it.

If you've a mind to, take a look at the book on Amazon, and if you're tempted by the synopsis, buy yourself a copy.  Hey, this starving writer needs alcohol so he can finish his next book, "One Eight".

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Besotted-Shaun-Stafford-ebook/dp/B00I36DYKG/

That bloody Kindle thing ...

Here's the thing.  My next book, "Besotted", is complete.  I want it to get out there, into the public domain, to be read by somebody, anybody - just one person or a few hundred people, or a few thousand.  But there's that problem with the Kindle.

If you're a writer who uses Word, then you've probably come across the problem.  That infernal fucking extra line that they insert between paragraphs by default.  I mean, Christ, who fucking writes anything like that?  It looks disgusting on the page, and it looks even worse on a Kindle.  We're quite fucking capable of pressing the "Return" key an extra time if we want that extra line in between our paragraphs, but generally, we don't want an extra line between EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PARAGRAPH.

So, there's the thing.  No matter what I did, the Amazon Kindle conversion was inserting extra lines between paragraphs where I was certain none existed.  Two hours it took me to identify the problem.  It's one of those "But ... ah ... oh, I see," kind of things.  See, I inserted a document with the title page and all of that kind of stuff before the actual text of the book.  Lazily, I'd not turned off that "insert an extra line between every FUCKING paragraph" thing off in that particular document.  So when I inserted it into the start of my book text, somehow, behind the scenes, Microsoft Word saw fit to say that the entire document needed that extra line, even if it wasn't showing it.

Here's the solution - CTRL+A to highlight everything.  Right click on the page, go to "paragraph" and then put a tick in "don't insert an extra line" box.  And while you're at it, switch off the poxy widow/orphan control as well.

Fucking Kindle.  I ask yer ... I don't think Benjamin Beerenwinkel would have these problems!

Happy Birthday to me ...

Writer's are odd people.  Creative individuals whose minds never switch off.  I have a handful of writer friends, and without naming names, they are, each of them, mentally screwed up.  That's not a criticism.  Myself, I'm a manic depressive, which means that I can suffer from vast mood swings.  One of my writer friends is constantly down because he feels that life has passed him by.

Which brings me to this post.

Here I am, on the cusp of my 45th birthday, and I could sit here wondering what I've achieved.  What has been my purpose on Earth?  Oh Christ, let's be fair, do any of us need a purpose to exist on this planet?  We're all, each of us, just a bunch of cells waiting to die.  That's all we are.  What have I achieved?  Does it matter?  I have two fantastic sons.  I've published 7 books.  I make a modest living out of them.  I make films, I act, though neither of these bring in money.  Is money important?  Of course it isn't.  Indeed, when I see somebody driving a Land Rover which has been "Overfinch-ed", I think they're an utter cunt.  I don't respect them.  Why should I?  Who do I respect?  Some of my friends, for their achievements, most of which are far more admirable than the Overfinch-driving Wayne Rooney, who struggles to find two brain cells to rub together, but who kicks a football around a pitch for a week's salary that most nurses will take 10 years to earn.  My friends, the ones I respect, some are wealthy, but most are as poor as me.  But do women sleep with poor men?  Of course they do.  Though I've had my fair share of women who are interested only in money and status, most women I've met are interested in the person rather than the bank balance.

Sadly, I suppose I'm not really a person that women are interested in ...

And there's me on the cusp of my 45th birthday, single, but undoubtedly happy.  Why am I happy?  Because I enjoy writing and creating, and because I have to hand a number of individuals I'm proud to call friends.

Here's to my 45th, on Sunday.  Send me a birthday wish ...

Snobbery against Indie Writers

Let me get this out of the way right now.  I'm an Indie Writer.  I don't have a massive publishing company behind me.  But let's put that into perspective.

The majority of people with a major publishing company behind them - traditionally published writers - get a £2,000 advance, and that's it.  They still have to promote their own work because the major publishing company is too busy promoting Katie Price's latest piece of shit.  Their books sell for £9.99 in Waterstones.  That sounds great, doesn't it?  But they get 10% of the sales from those books, less after their agent has dug their greedy mitts into the royalties.  Less than 99p for each book sold.  And how many books do they sell?  The average first time writer sells between 400 and 1,000 copies of their book, most of those in their local bookshops, where people are intrigued by the notion that somebody who lives in their town has a book for sale in a bricks and mortar bookshop.  Many of them don't get a second book published by their mainstream publisher.

Compare that to an Indie writer.  I get 70% of the royalties from any Kindle sales.  Essentially, from my best seller, "die Stunde X", I get about £1.20 per copy sold.  I have to do my own promotions, sure, but I'm not really a great marketing person.  Have I sold between 400 and 1,000 copies of that book?  Well, yes, of course I have.  Lots of people have read "die Stunde X", which is a fantastic feeling for a writer.  My readers don't just live in my home town.  They live all over the UK, in the US, in Australia, even a handful in the wastelands of Europe, where they speak in foreign tongues.

Recently, I've had people who have denigrated me (and a host of other Indie writers) by implying that we're not published writers.  I.e., anybody can self-publish.  Yes, of course they can.  Anybody can write a pile of shit and put it on Amazon, but the chances are it's never going to sell particularly well.  But in any case, by definition, we're all published writers.  And I'm not giving 20% of my royalties to an agent, and having countless other people profit from my hard work.  And trust me, writing a novel is hard work.  "die Stunde X" was 120,000 words.  My current book, "Besotted", soon to be published, is also 120,000 words.  It's hard work to write something that long.  It's bold and daring to put something so personal as a novel you've written out for public inspection.  But it's downright insulting when people are such snobs that they won't read anything written by an Indie writer.  Typos in Indie books?  Of course there are.  Beta readers don't spot them all.  But conversely, I've spotted countless typos in books by Stephen King, by other mainstream writers, and you know what, I'm not so anal as to point them out in a book review.  Who cares about the odd typo?  Read the fucking book, for Christ's sake.  You're a member of the public who's probably never written a book.  You're supposed to be reading, not proof-reading.  I've even read books by mainstream writers which have read like books written by Indie writers.  Slightly unpolished.

But here's the thing.

Indie writers are the future.  I think it's something like 20% of books sold on the Kindle are written by Indie writers.  That's a big statistic.  So next time you fork out £14.99 for the latest J.K. Rowling overhyped and overly expensive book, spare a thought for the Indie writer, the person who writes from the heart, and who sells their work for a fraction of the price.  They don't have massive resources behind them, so you must forgive their typos, their occasionally flowery sentences.  You must realize that these writers are so enthusiastic about their work that sometimes when they've finished it, they just want people to read it.

That's what writing is all about - getting somebody to read your stuff.  As the reader, you should read it, enjoy it, and then when you've finished it, find another book to read.

So stop being a snob.  Instead of forking out £9.99 for Grisham's latest Kindle book, fork out £1.99 for five books by Indie writers.   You might discover something special.